Fever Dreams
by Novoux
Summary: Even the strongest of monsters can't handle the flu, Izaya notices. Much less try to look alive. Shizaya & Izuo


Of all times to get caught by an illness, this really isn't the best of them.

Another buzzing noise starts up, seconds after the first round of them pounding against his ears from his nightstand. His stupid piece of crap phone is to blame, lighting up with the second call of today and already drilling holes into Shizuo's congested brain. However fricking loud his phone is, he doesn't remember setting the volume so high it snaps his eardrums.

If he glares at the damn thing, it still won't quit. Nope, not that he's necessarily tried, but he knows from _intuition_ that the best thing to do is ignore it and bury his head in pillows. Which only works if he remembers to take the medicine that's somewhere on the floor, supposedly making him able to sleep for longer than two minutes.

 _This is awful._

As the phone silences, he groans, coughing roughly into his disgusting blankets. Which soon turns into a hacking fit, complete with mucus spraying on his fingers and dripping from his nose.

The poster child of the flu, except it's more like being compared to death warmed over with chills of ice.

None of his blankets, all of them taken from his storage in the closet and piled on top of each other, do anything to stop the sudden chills that jerk his muscles in random bouts. One minute he could be trying to drink some water (when was the last time he did…?) and the next he earns a free shower. Also known as one of the benefits of having a shitty cold that just won't leave.

For the past two weeks, every day has been the same. From coughing his lungs and a couple ribs out to throwing up in a bucket he's emptied at least five times, even getting up hurts too much. Leading to camping out in his bedroom for as long as this stupid thing lasts.

Another irritating buzz comes from his phone, digging into his ears far beneath the mound of two pillows over his face. Any other time he could have smashed the stupid thing into bits, not caring if the plastic lodges itself in his hand and Izaya makes a fuss over Shizuo breaking things and Shizuo breaking skin.

Dozing off on the same strand of thought, Izaya's face comes to mind, hazy around the edges and blurred into the darkness threatening to cave in on him. There's something, he thinks is important, but it doesn't stay in mind for much longer. Trying to remember hurts, though, and therefore his drowsy, sleep-deprived brain decides for him.

 _Oh well,_ maybe it's not that important.

Izaya tends to disagree. With most things that come with working out of town for a bit, he would consider himself an agreeable man, if only to get the job done. It's not so much as pretending to like humans that strains out each and every minute of being gone, but rather, the beast of Ikebukuro's profound silence within the last two weeks.

Silence is something Izaya has never cared for. He can tolerate moments of pausing, decisions to be made and the silence of paperwork being completed. Not exactly the silence that comes from his phone, having found that he's sent more than just a few text messages (with no response whatsoever) and has called more often than he's sat in a meeting with this client.

In short, it leaves him on a slightly agitated stance, tilted just off balance and wavering, expecting something to make or break his patience for what _exactly_ causes the silence from Shizu-chan. It's just not like a beast to be so quiet when provoked.

Then again, nothing about Shizu-chan ever makes sense. Making himself even more unpredictable than usual only puts a damper on Izaya's mood, seeing as having no entertainment leaves a dark mark in Izaya's mind that lashes out when it decides it's had enough of silence.

Which explains this, somewhat, as Izaya takes the train and refuses the offer of staying for another week in Kyoto. Even with the promise of a raise for the work he's committed to doing, he doesn't believe in holding off important matters when the need arises to tend to them. Unfortunately for the client, they didn't take well to such until the terms of contract were strictly repeated with the assurance that they're playing a dangerous game if they think they can lie to a professional.

His fist clenches on the pole, ring clinking against the metal as he comes to the final stop and his phone is already in his hand, fingers sending out a quick text message before it snaps shut. He's the first one off the train, moving in fast strides with one destination in mind and it's not Shinjuku this time.

Shizu-chan better have a _very_ good explanation for this.

Or else, Izaya hums inwardly as he skips his way to Shizuo's apartment, he'll have to take payment as compensation—on the grounds of mental turmoil and anguish, something that even he can laugh at while the beast plays along to whatever bait dangles in his face.

Shizuo knows he's one to rise to the occasion, especially when not necessary, but this time he doesn't believe he _can._ A knock at the door barely registers in his ears, foggy and drifting back into sleeping with his mouth open and a collection of drool and sweat on his pillow.

What a way to spend the day… Trapped in his own head, imagining that it's Izaya's voice calling that stupid nickname of his. And as he continues to doze off again, forgetting medicine and the spilled bottle of pills under his bed, he doesn't hear the door click open with the ease of not being picked, but a key scratching the lock before it turns and shuts behind whoever comes in.

A hand falls out from Shizuo's side knuckles brushing the floor as he coughs abruptly, landing on his face as his body falls from its side to his stomach, burying him face-down. Suffocating, apparently, because even if he wants to stay, no air will stay in his aching lungs long enough to keep him from accidentally killing himself.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say Shizu-chan's a knuckle-dragging ape..." Izaya watches him from the doorway, content at least with knowing—seeing Shizuo's phone on the nightstand, complete with tissues and a vomit bucket in front of it. "What happened to you, Shizu-chan?"

The humor in his voice doesn't quite make it from how he tries to sound. He doubts Shizuo notices, going by the lack of movement that seems to gauge Shizu-chan hasn't heard him at all. It doesn't matter though, making his way to the bedside where the beast continues to try and sleep, defying all logic in his usual protozoan way to sleep with his head buried in pillows.

Like a big kid refusing to listen to reason, no matter how bad he feels. And the feverish sweat dripping from Shizu-chan's brow confirms it, hot breaths heaving against Izaya's fingers when he pushes the lump of a beast over to his back. Little complaint comes from the beast, if anything at all because his eyes are barely open, dark brown saturated with the haze of delirium, giving cause for Izaya to sigh to himself.

"Have you been doing anything at all, Shizu-chan?" Izaya notices the pills spilled on the floor and some distance away a not so discreet attempt at cleaning up a blue stain from an uncapped bottle of cough syrup near his foot. So much for trying to manage by himself, then only to keep himself as a miserable festering pile of monster and sickness, just waiting for Izaya to finish it off.

"Is that what you were imagining, Shizu-chan?" Izaya entertains the idea, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand combing through the beast's hair. "That I'd be the one to kill you now? I'm flattered, but Shizu-chan, it's not kind to assume I'm that weak, especially when you know better." He plays with a strand for a bit, peeling it away from where it sticks to Shizuo's throat, bobbing with the struggle of trying to swallow enough air and heaving with coughs that muffle in the bedsheets. Izaya holds Shizuo's hair back, fingers stroking down the harsh red of the blond's cheek as he finally gasps for air, a wet moaning noise bubbling in the back of his throat.

Ah, Shizu-chan really isn't fun like this. Izaya toys with the idea of leaving, immediately dismissed because clearly the beast can't keep himself alive without help, a pitiable feat. Nevertheless, Izaya's hand finds the nape of the brute's neck, fingers tracing into the skin while he listens to the rasps of Shizuo barely keeping himself breathing.

Stupid Shizu-chan.

Izaya rises, fingers slipping over the overheated skin and not to leave, collecting the bottles of medications off the floor before heading to the bathroom to search for more. Surely, he thinks to himself that this beast would have _something_ if he's been sick for as long as the past two weeks.

And sure enough, Izaya finds what he's looking for, sitting innocently on the bathroom counter in a colorful array of medications and syrups for every symptom that typically comes with the flu. Nausea and vomiting too, his eye catching the label of an anti-nausea liquid with a sort of confused interest when he forgets that monsters can fall prey to even the smallest of microbes.

No matter, dismissing it and anything else his brain dares to draw up with a selected collection of medications, making mental note to grab something at the convenience store for Shizu-chan to eat. His diet of sweets wouldn't be much help anyway, not when Izaya prefers something much more alive than what he finds sweating in bed as soon as he comes back into the bedroom.

His hand cups Shizuo's face, tilting the beast's chin up. "Come on, Shizu-chan," a cup of water in the other, he waits for the groggy swallow and the sliver of recognition before he pulls the beast up far enough to hold the water to his lips, tilting it carefully. Really, it's not like Shizuo to be _this_ stupid, as dehydrated as he is and how eagerly he drinks water for the first couple sips before he can't hold any more, resting against Izaya's arm.

And then somehow Izaya finds himself sliding onto the bed, Shizu-chan's head on his shoulder as he tries to feed the idiot more medications—just enough to keep his sickness at bay, since the beast never tried much to begin with.

Despite his looks, Shizuo manages to put up a fight when it comes to taking cough syrup, jerking and twitching when he gags on the taste and Izaya plugs his nose. Keeping Shizuo's mouth covered until he swallows it all. And by the time he's nearly worked himself into a sweat dealing with the beast, Shizu-chan drapes his head on his shoulder with a soft, heavy sigh of resignation.

"Is this what you wanted, Shizu-chan?" Izaya murmurs to himself, easing the beast back into bed as he finds himself unwillingly dragged along. "To ruin my day, plus the two weeks I haven't heard a word from you?"

Shizuo doesn't answer, clinging a little tighter to Izaya as his breaths even out, the medications beginning to kick in. Izaya ignores the urgent need to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, choosing to let the beast curl into him while he keeps one hand at the beast's throat, idly stroking the skin.

"Get better soon," a fingernail traces a line of sweat, replaced by lips that linger for longer than necessary. "Shizu-chan."

He doesn't expect an answer, feeling the vibrations of a sigh and decides that's good enough for him.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading._


End file.
